Lapse
by DagonSt
Summary: The Alaskan shack scene, rewritten with amnesia and extra slash. July 2002.


Eroica tumbled into a haze of white that only slowly resolved into details: helicopter. propellor-blade six feet away in a snow-bank. half-frozen lake, snow, and cold. He'd lost his major, it seemed, and the KGB with him. But he'd also misplaced the jeep with its cargo. It was up to him to protect that priceless art collection from the government buffoons chasing it. Then he could radio his men, and they'd be drinking hot cocoa in Anchorage by the time the three intelligence agencies got anything sorted out. Dorian spared the briefest of glances for his copter, and none at all for the lake and its farther shore, before striding into the forest.

Behind him, unnoticed, the lost major erupted from the frigid waters, shaking with fury and hypothermia.

* * *

Near sunset, Eroica found himself back at the lake, empty-handed. The helicopter was covered over in snow, the lake etched over in solid-looking ice that even he wouldn't dare walk on. There was also a cabin that only rose above 'shack' by virtue of the thin column of smoke rising from it. The tired thief trudged over to impose on the natives, and pushed open the door.

The warm air smelled of smoke and damp, and Dorian leaned into it, squinting to see into the dim, flickering room. His breath caught in his throat. To find Klaus out here, so very far from everything, was a shock. So far from everything...a wonderfully romantic place for the Iron Major to fall into his arms at last. If a trifle inconvenient, with Jamesie's plates and his art out in the wilderness somewhere. But a lovely thought, just the same. "Oh, darling," he breathed, "you didn't have to -"

The intelligence officer shot to his feet at the voice, whirling to face the new threat with pistol in hand. Dorian blinked, stuttered to a halt, and gazed agape at his beloved. Major Eberbach froze, startled into inaction. And stripped to the waist. Dorian let his eyes flicker lower, then stared shamelessly until Klaus recoiled, waving the gun at him. "Close the door, idiot. Stop looking at me."

Dorian groped behind him, found the door, closed it. "Darling,"

"And don't start with that perverted nonsense. 's too cold to throw you out." Klaus yanked his shirt off the stove, half-dry, and buttoned it hurriedly. "Thought you'd killed yourself, wandering off into the snow like that." He'd checked for blood in the helicopter, for any snow deep enough to hide the thief's body. Had finally had to give Eroica up to the woods or lake, and see to his own survival.

"_Darling_, I hardly expected rescue to come to me here. I didn't even see the cabin. Good of you to wait for me, though." Dorian tried a smile on him. It bounced off.

"Where the fuck would I go? To die freezing in the woods, like you?" Klaus stepped forward, nearly upending the bottle of alcohol he'd been sitting up with. He glanced down, then sidestepped it carefully and resumed scowling at Eroica.

"Well, to hunt down the Goring collection with your men, of course."

"Idiot! You know perfectly well where the collection is! You dropped me into that fucking lake with it!"

"I _what!?_" Dorian gasped, horrified. Paintings were _not_ meant to be submerged, even if they had survived their first immersion, and...

"Crashed that helicopter and dropped the jeep into the lake. I was on the jeep."

"In the jeep, darling? And so was the collection?" Dorian twisted a curl of hair in his finger.

"Hanging off it - I grabbed on." Dorian opened his mouth again. Klaus forged on. "You picked the jeep up. With the helicopter. Come away from that door - you aren't going diving for it now." Klaus stepped back to give Dorian a wide berth and a place near the fire, picking up his bottle protectively.

He sat, frowning. "I don't remember you being there. Or the jeep." Someone had screamed as the helicopter lurched _up_, and Dorian had jerked forward, trying to hang on. That was it. That was Klaus. He shivered, hoping he could forget it again.

The major continued, oblivious. "Only an idiot like you would hit his head and forget what he was doing."

The Major's leaps of intuition were sometimes truly astonishing. Dorian looked sidelong at him and wondered how NATO determined suitability for the Intelligence branch. He smiled a little. "I haven't forgotten the important things, Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach."

Inevitably, Klaus turned at his tone, on the defensive. "Don't start with it." They looked at each other a minute. "Do you have cigarettes?"

"Mmhmm," Eroica smiled. "If you'll share your bottle."

The Major looked at him. And thought about how long it was likely to be before someone else with nicotine happened by. "Here. Found it in the other room. Don't drink from it."

"Don't _what?_" Almost half was gone. Dorian handed over his cigarettes, sighing. Klaus was lovely, but he smoked more than the furnace. And stayed as cold as that lake out there.

"Don't touch your mouth to the bottle," Klaus insisted. "You'll contaminate it."

"That's ridiculous," Dorian sighed. He took the bottle with both hands, his fingertips brushing Klaus's hand only a little. And out of the corner of his eye saw Klaus rubbing his fingers on his shirt. As though Dorian were a leper. So very petty. Eroica was so very good at petty.

He watched Klaus light his cigarette with interest, before pouring the drink down his throat - not touching the glass, and hoping the Major was watching. He was. Dorian thrust the bottle back at the Major, letting him struggle to grab it quickly enough. Thrust himself after - while Klaus's hands were busy with cigarette and liquor, Dorian claimed his mouth. And then, as the German stiffened into his customary panic, pressed full-length against him, arms thrown around his neck.

That kiss might have gone on forever - so far as Dorian was concerned. Klaus had forgotten or never learned how to breathe through his nose, and Dorian reluctantly drew back an inch or so so he could gasp for air. Dorian spent the time kissing along Klaus's jaw, lightly, before purring into his ear. "You'll want another drink, darling. It's antiseptic." He leaned back at arms' length to savor the Major's disarrangement. Time stopped as their eyes locked again, but jolted back to promptness when the alcohol bottle dropped to the floor with a thunk - not broken, Eroica calculated. Only spilled. Spilling. Klaus brought his hands up, steepled, to eye-level, and Dorian held his breath. The hands separated abruptly. Dorian stumbled back a step, arms swinging out uselessly. And it wasn't fair that he couldn't read anything in the Major's face and shadowed eyes. "I'm going outside," Klaus said finally.

Dorian shook his head, stubborn. "To die of cold in the woods like an idiot?" Even as he spoke, he dodged around Klaus with a thief's instinct, to grab the jacket off the wood-stove and _hold_ when Klaus reached for it. His arms might bruise, where Klaus had knocked them apart. "There are wolves out there, Major. I saw one, in the woods. Stay here, Klaus." He cocked his head to the side, trying to judge the Iron Major's mood. "Someone will pick us up soon."

As soon as he was sure he had shelter and fire, Klaus had gone out to cover over the helicopter, buying time for his men. He could survive the night in the shack, and Eroica was lost. But Eroica had come back. "No-one will find us before morning," he corrected slowly, holding Eroica's gaze.

The jacket still swung between the two, held fast and forgotten. For a moment, Eroica even forgot to think of his waterlogged treasure. He nodded, and tried to channel his shock - which was a very dry, unsurprised sort of shock - into a serious expression, because Klaus was watching him far too closely to dare feel smug. "I'll stay with you, Major."


End file.
